


Regalis

by DivineHerd



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: M/M, Medieval, Royalty, femboy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineHerd/pseuds/DivineHerd
Summary: Two princes of avian and human descent are to become wed, but there is much to be done before the former can assume the right to rule his kingdom.
Relationships: Human Male/Anthro Male
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

“As you very well know, our marriage is set to take place in this _exact_ castle one week from today." You couldn't help but watch amusedly as the raven paced the chamber, his manicured talons clicking against the floor with a staccato cadence. “What do you think would happen if I don't make my best impression upon the elders?"

You were tempted to give him a sarcastic response, but you thought better of it in the moment. When he got like this, you had found the best way to talk him down was with a little honey, not vinegar. “Ambrose, we've pored over every last detail of the ceremony with the highest of scrutiny. I assure you that things will go as swimmingly as possible, so please, don't worry so much."

Ambrose didn't say anything, but his movement had grown a smidgen less erratic. You decided to seize the opportunity and fill the silence. “Besides, they say that stress makes you age rapidly. It would be a shame if the prince of the avians were to look any less than glamorous when he inevitably assumes the throne."

Rising from your seat, you reached out to stop the bird mid-pace by delicately patting his shoulder. As if disturbed from a nightmare, he leapt up with a jolt, his back muscles tense. Sighing, you spun him around to get a good look at his pretty face, which was done up with mascara and some eyeliner. “Come on, let's get some fresh air. I know you like your privacy and all, but it does nobody any good to stay cooped up in here for an eternity."

Meeting your eyes with his, Ambrose smiled, although not quite wholeheartedly. “Heh. Once again, Prince Onoma, you prove yourself to be the voice of reason. Although I _do_ have to correct you—we've only been in here for thirty minutes. Hardly an eternity, to be certain."

Seemingly regaining a bit of pep in his step, he made his way to the door, the sapphire pendant around his neck bouncing against his chest. Anyone familiar with the avian kingdom knew that the wearer of this particular piece of jewelry was slated as the heir apparent. For Ambrose, just the thought of inheriting rule over such an influential region was enough to weigh heavily on his conscience. Despite being in a close relationship with him for over two years, you still found yourself struggling to assuage his fears, much to your lament.

Even in the dim light of the room, the gold-encrusted gem managed to gleam, mimicking the irises of the raven's expressive eyes. You trailed behind the raven, watching as he dismissed the royal guards waiting outside with an elegant flick of his dominant hand. Ambrose continued to lead as the two of you descended the several flights of stairs that dumped off at the main floor of the castle.

“So, where did you plan for us to go? Out in the courtyard, perhaps? The gallery? Wait…aha! I bet you were suggesting that we head to my bedroom—"

“Ambrose!"

“Sorry! I'm still learning how to interpret 'those' kinds of hints from human speech. I'm guessing that was not one of them."

“Yeah, no…anyway, Ambrose, I figured it would be best if we took a walk around town."

“Around town?" The bird scrunched up his face—rather, as best as one with a beak could hope to accomplish. “To be clear, I wouldn't say no to that, but I had not planned to journey outside of the castle today. Furthermore, I haven't even done up my hair!"

Although Ambrose's pendant was impressive, you almost felt compelled to declare that the raven's “hair" was far more so in its full glory. Made from the plumage atop his head, it had been shaped and grown out to the length of his shoulders and dyed white. Through extensive care and effort, it had developed a far silkier consistency than the rest of his feathers, and Ambrose was rightfully proud of how it looked whenever it was washed, styled, and dried. If he wanted to color the tips to match his gemstone, which was something done for special occasions, it took a couple of hours to get his hair totally the way he wanted it.

“Well, think of it this way. If you want to start sowing the seeds of approval from the townspeople and instill confidence in your leadership, you need to make more casual appearances in public. Most would only recognize you from the handful of formal speeches given on behalf of your father. From the safety of your own home, mind you. And something tells me it's hard to relate to someone who doesn't rub shoulders with the average civilian from time to time."

By now, the two of you had nearly made it to the bottom of the set of spiraling stairs. Taking notice of this, Ambrose skipped his way down the few steps, opting not to let you catch up. “Ah, preposterous! There's no need for such a thing! I'm perfectly comfortable staying here with you until the wedding—"

“AMBROSIUS!" you exclaimed with urgency, hoping to get through to him with his full name instead. “That is _not_ how a prince is meant to carry himself, and I know you know that even within the deepest, darkest confines of your heart." Shaking your head, you felt as if you were walking on eggshells talking about… _this_ with him.

You could hear a pin drop upon the cobblestone floor. With all of your being, you absolutely hated having to resort to yelling, but sometimes, it was the only viable tactic to get Ambrose to listen.

The raven trembled ever so slightly, and as he turned to face you, he made no attempt to hide that he had grown misty-eyed. “P-prince Onoma?"

“Yes?" Curses, here we go again.

“How could a flightless bird possibly instill confidence in his winged constituency?" 

You had answered this question time and time again, but you had never been able to find the words that would satisfy him. Although he was by definition a raven, he had been born without wings, the circumstances of which were still not fully explained. What further exacerbated things was that his parents, both of the same species, were renowned for their skillful flight capabilities. Regardless of the occasion, these two had impressed many a people both inside and out of the avian kingdom with their grace and elegance in midair. Although Ambrose had had no choice in the matter, the missing appendages upon his back were a persistent blight upon his psyche.

“You do so with perseverance, Ambrose. You were born into the lap of luxury, but you still have to work to become something more than where you started, okay?"

“Prince Onoma, I trust in you wholly and completely. But I think you fail to understand the significance of my birth defect." The raven sat himself down on the lowest step, tacitly encouraging you to do the same. “If you take away a flying bird's wings, you make him, and excuse my language, a gimp. I've suffered for years trying to compensate—"

You sprung up immediately to interject. “Oh my goodness, Ambrose. You get to laze around the castle for days on end without any sort of personal responsibility, and you call that 'suffering'? Not to mention that we've been living in peacetime for decades. If you go back a century ago, there wasn't a day without horrific bloodshed across the world."

The bird weakly countered, “But that was a different era beyond comparison to ours…"

“They're comparable because those were our _ancestors_ fighting in the territorial battles of yesteryear. Don't tell me you've forgotten your history so soon? The casualties inflicted led to a massive biological bottleneck for many species, ours included. Reproduction was seriously endangered until the salamander mages managed to craft alternative means—"

“I know…I know." Ambrose was as still as a statue, prompting you to seat yourself once more and run your fingers through his hair. He then cleared his throat. “It's shameful of me to wallow in my own pity, and it is unbecoming of someone who intends to rule. But my indulgence in a sheltered upbringing leaves me feeling less than competent."

“Ambrose, you're prone to downplaying yourself, but you're well aware you're a skillful orator. If anything, you'll first win over your people with your words, then continue to do so by your actions."

The raven took this opportunity to lie down, placing his feathery head in your lap. “Well, that's certainly easier said than done, no pun intended."

“No one ever said it was going to be easy."

“True."

“Just keep yourself composed, Ambrose. Focus on what's right ahead, not what's down the road."

“Okay." With a deep breath, he righted himself, rubbing his eyes. “Hey, Prince Onoma?"

“What is it?"

“If things get tough, will you stick by my side?"

“Of course. Don't worry; people are going to grow to like you, I'm sure of it."

“And if they don't?"

“Then I invite them to go fornicate themselves, posthaste."

Ambrose couldn't help but beam at that one. “What would I do without you, my love?" He embraces you tightly, rubbing the small of your back, and you return the favor.

“I do not know, and I am not daring enough to find out."

“Well, a day on the town, is it?" Ambrose remarked, getting up and dusting himself off. “I'll follow you wherever you want to go."

Once more on your feet, you grabbed his hand and yanked in the direction of the imposingly large front gate. “All right, then let's get a move on!"

He held his ground briefly, calling out to the men standing idly nearby. “We're off to take a walk outdoors. A small entourage accompanying us from behind would be most appreciated."

“Of course, Your Highness." The burliest of the lot, a red-tailed hawk, stepped forward, signaling to the rest of his reports.

Once the gate was drawn open, you took a few strides in lockstep with Ambrose beyond the interior of the castle walls, stopping on a dirt path. As the sun's rays poked through the clouds above, you couldn't help but feel that things were about to get very interesting in very short order.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, Prince Onoma, remind me again what kinds of things you like to do for fun in your kingdom," probed Ambrose, strolling alongside you. “You've learned plenty about the avian society, yet I've regrettably been a homebody for much of our time together. It would be of great use to me to familiarize myself with human culture as best as I can, especially if I have ample opportunity to partake in it."

“Ha, you really aren't missing out," you retorted, chuckling in earnest. “I mean, we can certainly be a lively bunch, but that's just the copious amounts of alcohol bringing out the worst of us."

“Hmm. Well, that still doesn't give me a lot to go on," the raven mused. “Tell me more; there must be _something_ that represents the pride and joy of your kind."

“Maybe I'm biased, but I wager you wouldn't hold a particularly high opinion of sword fighting, arm wrestling, and gambling." You shrugged, breaking your grasp of Ambrose's hand. “Honestly, we're not as fascinating a species as you think."

“Well, maybe _I'm_ biased, but I find _you_ far more fascinating than anyone else in my kingdom. And it's no contest compared to…her." Ambrose reflexively covered his face, regretting his utterance of that last sentence in an instant. “Drat, I really do apologize. It's unfair for me to even mention something like that given the context."

“It's okay, Ambrose," you assured him. “I know how the idea of an 'arranged marriage' stressed you out when you were younger. Just be thankful your parents were as understanding as they were to allow you to break it off before we first met. Imagine where we'd both be then!"

As the two of you continued along the bend of the current path, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “She…just wasn't a very good fit for me. The lack of free will was distressing, yes, but to be hitched to someone with nothing in common was absolutely nightmarish to me."

“Let me ask you this," you began. “How much do you think _we_ have in common?"

“Huh…a thought-provoking question indeed." Thought-provoking enough to make him stop in his tracks. “Well, we certainly enjoy philosophizing and discussing abstract ideas at length."

“Go on…"

“Ah, you're putting me on the spot!" protested Ambrose, partially in jest. “Haha, well…we both share a preference for—"

“Ambrose, please, that's a given," you teased. It took nearly all your strength to resist smacking your forehead in front of him.

“What? I was going to say 'a preference for quiet places over raucous ones,'" he firmly insisted. If he could visibly blush, you were positive he would be doing so right now. “Gosh, you don't believe me one bit!"

Your chuckling had turned into a full-fledged guffaw, fueled by the sheer awkwardness of the engagement. “I believe you, Ambrose, I believe you. I promise."

In the midst of conversing with one another, you had started to come up on a scattering of ramshackle residences that, by your best guess, held about a few hundred villagers in total. These individuals lived a stone's throw away from the nearest town, but the manifestation of melancholy was fully evident in how they carried themselves. While you passed by, you swore you could make out the bags under the eyes of dozens of adults who were tending to menial tasks like hanging laundry and chopping wood. Their movement was at best labored and at worst agonizing, indicating years upon years of toiling away just for the sake of subsisting.

What tore at your heartstrings, however, was the sight of the children. Dirtied feathers and patchwork clothes were not particularly out of the ordinary for rustic folk, but that bubbling cauldron of fire and passion that fueled one's youth was simply…not there. Dulled eyes, somber expressions—the telltale signs of abject poverty, but without even the hope of clawing one's way out of it.

Some of the children perked up noticeably upon catching a glimpse of your silken garb and handcrafted shoes. A few pointed emphatically at Ambrose, possibly clued in by his pendant that he was someone of importance. Others were more attentive to the handful of soldiers trailing right behind you in their shiny plated armor. Despite all this, it was safe to say the parents were none too impressed or pleased.

Many simply turned their backs to you and your fiancé. From your perspective, it looked as if one of them had attempted to spit towards the earth, at least to the best of his abilities. On top of this, there were mutters of profane language coming from their general direction, although they were purposefully loud enough for you to hear. To say they were disparaging would be a massive understatement.

“Keep moving, Ambrose," you whispered, giving him an extra nudge in the back to make him pick up his stride. “This isn't worth engaging."

Although he was definitely listening to you and matching your pace, Ambrose was otherwise unresponsive. You could guess at a wild variety of reasons; there was no chance any one of them could be talked out in a short pick-me-up.

For a few minutes, there were no words exchanged, but rather a mutual understanding to make it clear of the immediate area. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure your convoy was in shouting distance, but even visually confirming their presence felt like no consolation. It didn't seem like they were in the mood to deal with this either, as they continued to trudge joylessly along the path you had forged.

You pondered far and wide for anything to spark the conversation once more, but there wasn't any kindling large enough for the task. With the fellow prince as apparently as shaken as he was, you were compelled to try a different avenue entirely.

“Ambrose."

Nothing, except for the occasional crunch of a dead leaf underneath his feet.

“Ambrose."

A stiff breeze rustling the nearby plant life answered you this time.

“ _Ambrose!_ "

“…w-what? W-were you s-saying something?" You hadn't heard him stammer this badly in a long time. Pangs of regret were reverberating inside of you, but you firmly believed there was still merit to venturing out this far.

“I'm going to find us a street vendor near the border of Owlwood. I think some food will help calm our nerves," you conceded, unwilling to speak in particular terms about what the two of you had witnessed.

“…o-okay." Wistfully, he tucked his pendant underneath his shirt, seemingly intent on trying to blend in a little more with the masses before going along with your plan.

Fortunately, nourishment was abundant inside of this town—for a token price, of course. As both of you took the first steps beyond the stone arches at the exterior, you were overwhelmed by the cacophony of sounds that filled the crisp autumn air. There were merchants shouting advertisements of their wares, townspeople bartering for said wares, kids of all different kinds of species yelling and flying up and down the streets, and plenty of other activities that got lost in the commotion.

As Ambrose indicated earlier, this was not your aesthetic in the slightest, and neither was it his. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have bailed due to the sheer sensory overload. However, you simply couldn't break away from the mishmash of culinary aromas that had travelled in your direction. Following your nose's first instinct, you gingerly guided Ambrose toward what looked to be a humble savory pastry shop.

The fellow behind the counter was comically round; perhaps you could have just chalked it up to his being a cardinal. Something about never trusting a skinny cook also came to mind, but somehow it didn't quite ring true in your head this time around. Lethargically, you began to gesture towards the back shelf behind the proprietor.

“Two of your most filling pies, good sir." Confused, you turned your head to find that Ambrose had taken the reins instead. “How much do I owe you?" the bird inquired, withdrawing a coin pouch from his satchel. He was putting on a surprisingly dignified front in spite of his perceptible disarray shortly before arriving.

“Eh, lemme see here…that'll be…four copper pieces to cover both." The cardinal managed to pivot halfway towards his inventory before spinning back around to look at his client again. “Wait a second…aren't ya the king's kid or somethin'? Seemin' far too fancy to be eatin' commoner food the way ya dress 'n' talk!"

“You would be correct." Ambrose, looking oddly satisfied with himself, began to dig around for the necessary currency to pay for his purchase.

“Bahaha! So I was right!" The shop owner busted out laughing, his hands firmly planted against his hips. You swore his whole body was experiencing a localized earthquake by the way he heaved and shook.

“I've gotta admit, ya must be sportin' some massive jewels to turn down the daughter of the highest-rankin' earl within a thousand kilometers!"

“ _Excuse_ me?" Ambrose scowled, slamming his fist with considerable force against the counter. Uh-oh, this could be trouble.

“Hey, hey, easy there, kid. I'm just sayin', you could do a helluva lot better than partnerin' with a stinkin' human! God knows they're all damn philanderers anyway." While still wheezing, the portly cardinal shifted his gaze towards you, almost apologetically. “Er, uh, no offense."

Although your pride was mildly wounded, you could somewhat sympathize with his position. Given the anthropomorphic nature of the prevailing species in the world, it had long been theorized that the infusion of human phenotypes into the collective gene pool had come about by less than civilized means. Frankly, it was no skin off your nose if this guy wanted to be a prick; all he was doing was losing a pair of customers.

Undoubtedly, the raven had already made up his mind as well. “We're going, Prince Onoma." In a huff, he proceeded to stomp off, heading for the entrance from which you came. Who was this avian, and what had he done with Ambrose?

With minimal deliberation, you made haste to slip away from the shop owner in pursuit of your beloved bird boy. “Prince? _You_?" The shop owner's voice, although fading in the distance, was tangibly incredulous. You couldn't decide which ailment would kill the man first: a ruptured diaphragm or a burst blood vessel in his head.

Before you could catch up to Ambrose, an exclamation from up above rattled your eardrums. “The king has decreed that the taxes levied upon this town will see a twenty percent increase in the upcoming calendar year!" It was the voice of the town crier, a peregrine falcon, beckoning to his people, and it was stirring up a lot of disdainful chatter.

“Are you serious?"

“He's hell-bent on stealing from our pockets and lining his own!"

“That son of a bitch…doesn't he realize we have families to feed? How can we possibly support ourselves with such ordinances?"

The town crier repeated his message a couple times, fluttering up, down, left, right, and center to ensure that his word was heard. You, a mere ambulatory creature, had difficulty keeping up with his flight path. Granted, he practically had the entire air space to himself, seeing as there were regulations on who could fly in urban zones to reduce congestion.

“Stop sky-watching; it isn't safe here anymore for you or His Highness." A hushed admonishment stole your attention away from above. Without you even realizing he had been approaching, the lead guard from the entourage had managed to pick you out from the throng of citizens. From a few body's lengths away, he started to pave a way for you to exit, although you still had to excuse yourself and gently push against the individuals who failed to clear enough space in the crowded street.

So far, so good; you had made it about twenty paces from the entrance when you caught a glimpse of Ambrose's head peeking around the corner of the pillar. Drawing shallow breaths, all you could think about was getting out of here unscathed and picking up this “day on the town" concept any _other_ day.

For whatever reason, however, you couldn't shake the suspicion you were being watched. The guard's back was turned to you, so who—

“Perhaps you should air your grievances with royalty directly instead! As a matter of fact, the prince himself and his human companion are standing in the nearby entryway at this very moment!"

With the split second you had to see the town crier's miserable face, you were sickened to your core to discover a devious grin plastered upon it.

“Hold on tight!" Your balance was immediately thrown off-kilter, as your feet were no longer making contact with…well, anything. In fact, your legs were dangling helplessly from underneath you, but strangely, the sensation of falling was noticeably absent. Your stomach churned as you realized what just happened.

All things considered, you felt very calm in the arms—or rather, the left arm—of the hawk that had launched you into midair, despite the unwieldy circumstances. Maybe it was the sound of his beating wings propelling you forward that soothed you…actually, it was probably because he had a wriggling and squirming Ambrose pinned squarely to the side opposite of you. If the guard could handle a bird with a fear of heights, he was definitely equipped to secure someone like you, who put up far less resistance.

As you drifted, it dawned on you how much concentration and strength was required to evacuate two individuals in such a phenomenal fashion. Whatever they were paying him, it was nowhere close to enough. You squeezed your eyes shut, entrusting your wellbeing to the hawk until you could feel the sweet, sweet texture of bladed grass under your toes once more.

It felt like ages before the forcefulness of the wind gradually dwindled, matched by the slowing of the powerful flapping. You figured you'd let your ears dictate when to return to using your sight. Even as you were descending, you didn't exactly have the courage to check out the towering view beneath.

Downward, downward you went…slowly downward…uh…land, ho? You were quivering way more than you liked to admit; the comforting embrace that had carried you all the way here had dissipated.

“We're back within the walls of the castle." Rubbing your eyes, you found the hawk's assertion to be exceptionally true, much to your relief. Never had you been so glad to be rooted to the earth in your entire life.

“Heavens, Artemis! Thank…thank goodness, you're a lifesaver!" croaked Ambrose, his throat parched from the massive intake of air.

Rather than acknowledging Ambrose's praise, Artemis peered down at you instead. “Prince Onoma, please exercise better judgment in the future. As an outsider to the avian lands, you will receive a pass this time around, but I will not tolerate you endangering Your Highness's safety again in the future." And with that, he departed the scene, leaving just you and Ambrose to catch your collective breaths.

“Oh, please forgive Artemis. He…he carries himself as cold and unflinching, but…in private quarters, he's a big softie," the bird prince reassured you, waving his hand dismissively. “He was sworn into the royal guard to protect me when I was born, so you can understand…you can understand how seriously he takes his responsibility."

“I see." There wasn't a single atom in your body that wanted to have a prolonged conversation. Instead, you sat down tentatively, pulling your knees against your chest to contemplate the gravity of your actions. To have thought that your gut feeling of something “interesting" happening would lead to something like this…was unconscionable.

“Prince Onoma…" Ambrose walked over to you and crouched down to your level, yanking you close to rest his forehead against yours. “It's all right if you don't accept it right now, but it's _not_ your fault. None of this is."

You wanted desperately to turn away; the bird held your head steady.

“What we saw today…what we heard today...we can't make it right overnight. I may not be as strong or capable as many of my peers, but even so…I can't just rest on my laurels, can I?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't find fault with what he was saying.

“I know you won't either. I also know that supporting each another is paramount in a relationship, and you've done most of the heavy lifting." Ambrose sprung right up, extending his hand to you. Hesitantly accepting his grasp, you rose to your feet.

“I want to ease your pain during the times you feel scared and vulnerable, even if I can't always find the right way to do so. That's because…to me, you're worth everything, and I'll do my damnedest to keep you happy. So thank you for allowing me this small opportunity…Onoma."

With a sympathetic smile, he turned to head up the steps that led to the main hall. “We've got plenty of priorities to burn down before the wedding, and I won't be able to rest until every last one of them has been completed. Won't you help me?"

Forgoing any hesitation this time, you nodded. For of course you would help him, as you had done so countless times before, and there was bound to be many more in store. 


	3. Chapter 3

Ah, mornings…the bane of your daily existence. It didn’t matter when you went to bed or when you woke up; there was always this blanket of drowsiness that would entice you to stay tucked in with the rest of the sheets far longer than was prudent to do so. Truthfully, achieving a peaceful slumber was a much more difficult task as of late, but you had been at war with these sleep-related demons of yours well beyond the past few weeks.

Prying open the curtain closest to you and the headboard, you encountered a seriously strong glare coming from across the room, causing you to recoil. Lord, it was _way_ too bright already. But that also meant you were _way_ past due to get the day started, which was an egregious error with all the commotion going on. After all, there were now twenty-something hours left before the wedding, and you would have been incredibly remiss to leave Ambrose to fulfill the remaining pre-ceremony tasking by himself.

Gritting your teeth, you rolled over, sat up, and pushed through the yielding fabric in one fluid motion…only to be met with another heavy dose of sunlight. Sheesh…did the world really want you to go blind? You rubbed your temples, letting enough time pass to get the stars out of your eyes, before making your next move. Now was probably a good time to change from your undergarments into more appropriate attire, lest you appear indecent in front of the wrong people.

You had set out your preferred tunic the night before, so you felt fortunate that you were able to slip it on without having the elements encumbering you any further. Perhaps you could continue on the journey to reconciling this early start with some breakfast—

A thunderous knocking disrupted your train of thought before it had a chance to fully formulate. “ _Onoma!_ Come on, sleepyhead! There’s no more lollygagging for you, all right?” Oh, Ambrose. That early bird possessed an entirely antithetical attitude to yours about getting up and getting things done as soon as dawn broke. While you lauded his productivity, you were a little less amenable to his shenanigans to coax you from your room before you were entirely ready.

“Just…give me a moment! Getting changed and all that!” you hollered back, smoothing your clothes with one hand and tidying your hair with the other.

“Need any assistance with that? I can come in there if you want…”

“…what? No, I’m not a child, Ambrose. I can dress myself perfectly well and good, thank you very much.” There were no reservations about seeing one another in the buff, but you knew he was aiming at something else to rush you like this…although you hardly had a clue as to what.

“Then why don’t you come out here and assist me with wrapping up my latest accomplishment! On the double, if you may!” Boy, did he sound excited. Must be something good to get him bouncing off the walls as shamelessly as this.

“Okay, I give, I give. Leave me a little space…” You started to crack the door, but the raven decided it would be most effective to yank it wide open instead, nearly head-butting you in the process.

“Ah, sorry! Wouldn’t want to bruise your precious face…” Ambrose leaned back on his heels, sporting an awfully contagious smile.

“So...?” You furrowed your brow.

“This way!” He headed off in a saunter down the hallway to your left. Although you had made yourself a guest at this castle dozens of times, it wasn’t particularly a place where you wanted to be all alone. Its labyrinthine qualities gave you the chills, even. Would anyone find you if you were to wander around and get lost in some godforsaken chamber in the most distant corner of the property? Logically, the answer should have been affirmative, but you didn’t have any inclination to test that hypothesis.

With Ambrose as a guide, however, what presented itself as scary to you became no more than completely ordinary. It wasn’t like the role was his by trade, yet there was ultimately something soothing about how he could wax eloquent on every nook and cranny in your immediate view. It spoke to not only his intimate familiarity with the castle, as one would expect, but also his ability to calm and captivate at the same time.

You hurried to catch up behind the raven, prodding his shoulder to suss out some information. “What’s with all the hubbub? Normally, I can read you like a book, but I feel like I’m flipping through a bunch of empty pages instead,” you professed, genuinely curious.

“You’ll have to wait and see! My beak is sealed until I escort you to the desired destination.” He sure knew how to build up the tension and keep it brimming, huh…

Keeping a close distance to your husband-to-be, you reviewed a mental checklist of the most important preparations. Ambrose had been the one responsible for coordinating the clothes for the both of you, as you judged from the get-go that he had a far superior eye for color and design. You had had the opportunity to try on the resulting product, and needless to say, you came away very impressed. The raven, meanwhile, preferred to debut his side of the stitchwork on the morning of the ceremony, although he insisted that it was entirely complimentary to your own.

Between the two of you, Ambrose had picked out the flowers used for décor and mood-setting, and you, possessing the more acute sense of smell, had control over the herbs used as incense. You also took on the initiative to coordinate the cooking, well aware of the need to compromise between the two distinct palates of bird and man. Obviously, invitations had been extended months ago. So, given all that, what did Ambrose have up his sleeve?

“We’re here!” he announced in a singsong voice. Snapping you back to reality, you found yourself in front of the very oratory where the two of you would be center stage in short order.

“I think I’m missing something, Ambrose.”

“Less thinking, more looking.” He waved you on to accompany him through the primary entry. As you followed, you squinted at the myriad stained glass windows along the ceiling and the retaining walls that illuminated your course. Albeit colorful, nothing seemed out of the ordinary here. Granted, it had been a while since you last entered from the front, so maybe your memory was simply failing you on this occasion.

“Right idea, wrong coordinates.”

So if not here, then maybe the end of the corridor? You knew it split into two distinct passageways to facilitate a large audience, sort of like a T shape…oh, yeah…less thinking, right?

Swiveling your head straight again, that’s when you finally saw it. For what it was worth, it had been hidden in plain sight the whole time, but you were unable to recognize it due to your inferior visual acuity compared to that of your partner. Was…did _Ambrose_ do this?

“Well, what do you think? If you ask me, I believe it perfectly accentuates the existing ambiance.” The raven clenched his fists in anticipation, and even his tail feathers were trembling from the excitement.

“Holy hell, Ambrose. It’s…it’s incredible!” There was no mistaking it—this expansive mural was painted by the bird’s hand, and the sense of detail took longer than an initial glance to properly appreciate.

The depiction of your likeness was apparent and relatively realistic, and so was his. On top of that, the blend of blue, black, and gold cohered very strongly, leaving a very powerful impression. What amazed you most though was the symbolism: two hands, one avian and one human, joined at the center, with the ones on the sides gesturing outward, implying how to file by species when entering the room. A powerful combination of unity and direction, to be sure.

“How long did it take you to do this? And you were willing to keep it under wraps for all this time? Were you always this good of an artist?” you asked in rapid succession, unable to contain your giddiness.

Ambrose could only beam. “Whoa, slow down, Onoma,” he replied. While he was trying to stay unruffled, you could tell from the shine in his eyes that he was absolutely ecstatic, and perhaps a little relieved, with your reaction. “You know I’ve always had something of an artistic bent, but this is the first time I’ve been able to truly make use of it in such an impactful manner.”

“Sure, but…” It would have sufficed to merely stop yourself short, but you felt obligated to keep speaking. “Ambrose, you’re the weaver of words between the two of us, so forgive me if I don’t articulate myself as accurately as I could.”

You gave yourself a moment to collect your thoughts, but frankly, there weren’t too many of them that would have done your emotions justice. “I honestly cannot describe to you how significant this is to me. To invest so much of your time in a piece like this…my jaw would be on the floor if it possessed such extensibility. All I want you to know is that I’m really proud of what you’ve done here and what it means, not just for us, but for everyone else who is blessed to witness it.”

With little else to say, you pulled out the last stop in your outpouring of thanks by taking his right hand with your left. Gesturing toward the mural, you posed the theoretical question: “Does life imitate art, or does art imitate life?”

“Well, it’s clearly the former, not the latter in this case,” Ambrose smirked. “But of course, the mural’s underpinnings are deeply steeped in mimesis, so why not both?”

“Both is good.” Nodding in assent, the raven led you back in the direction whence you came. Interestingly enough, the cascading light from the glass overhead seemed all the more unspectacular on the return trip in spite of its unchanged complexion.

Back outside, you carefully shut the wooden church doors behind you, a dull groan accompanying their rotation along the hinges. As you let go of the handle, you began to take a step, but paused, staring momentarily into deep space. Were you hallucinating? Double vision? …no, wait, that’s just—

“Good afternoon, mother!” chirped Ambrose, channeling his own surprise through a far more proper medium. “What brings you here? I had expected you to be tending to matters elsewhere in the castle.”

Meekly, you bowed in deference to the presence of the avian queen, but she merely chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, Onoma, how you humor me…there’s no need to be so formal. I can’t say I’m as acquainted with you as well as my dear Ambrose is, but rest assured, you’re as close to family as you can be in my mind.”

Exhaling, you straightened yourself out. Genevieve’s stature was imposing, given that she stood a head above your own, but she didn’t have a single malevolent bone in her body. Still, you preferred to be on your best behavior around royals from other countries. It would be a tremendous scar upon the relationship you had forged with the kingdom to upend it with something trivial in your estimation, but grand in scale in theirs.

“I wanted to bestow my best wishes upon the both of you before the ceremony,” the queen offered. “Believe me when I say that I have full confidence in your abilities and sensibilities, for that matter.” She stroked the top of her beak, buying herself some time to word her next sentence. “I’ll be blunt: as you may suspect, there will be naysayers, critics, and what have you trying to drag you two into the mud.”

You and Ambrose looked at each other, acknowledging that this had been realized rather recently. Genevieve continued, narrowing her eyes. “Although most are neutral or in favor, there is tangible aversion to this marriage among the elites. It will most definitely break the surface tomorrow by way of a few members of the attendance. You must be exacting with your language and interactions; otherwise, things may unravel in a hurry.”

She was focusing on Ambrose specifically with her cautionary speech; while he didn’t outwardly display any apprehension, you sensed his stomach was in knots. The notion of the wedding being disrupted had absolutely crossed your mind and his, but it really wasn’t something either of you had wanted to broach.

Watching Genevieve speak in such an animated fashion, you also observed how she possessed plenty of white and gray feathers in her plumage. Her heritage as a pied raven was the true explanation behind her streaked appearance, but in this instance, it was indicative of her age and experience that came with it. As far as you were concerned, you were more than willing to receive any wisdom she was willing to impart.

Ambrose, meanwhile, was starting to look a little deflated, but the queen’s motherly instincts recognized the demeanor shift in a snap. “Now, Ambrose, I don’t want you to worry. If anything, consider any outburst from the crowd as…an unexpected source of entertainment. Trust me, I’ve listened to many a person run their mouth in my time, and more often than not, the garbage they spew trends toward amusing rather than infuriating.”

“Thank you, mother, I’ll keep in that in mind.” And just like that, the younger raven’s spirits were lifted once more. Familial bonds working their magic in real time, you supposed.

“Thank you for your encouragement, Genevieve. I promise not to make a mockery of your people or your subjects,” you swore in earnest.

“I’m sure you won’t, Onoma. I look forward to seeing you two walking the aisle.” As did you, obviously. With a couple of gusty flaps to get airborne, she then took off, mixing in a spin here and there as she glided away.

“She’s still so graceful after all this time, huh?” admired Ambrose, watching the aerial acrobatics with intent until the queen became a miniscule blip in the sky. “But…even if I’m destined to roam purely by foot, I’m glad I have the privilege of doing it alongside you.”

“Likewise.” And amidst the bouts of strife and contention, you were confident that the path that lay before the two of you was the superlative one.


End file.
